


So you gotta fire up, you gotta let go.

by lanyon



Series: I gave you hell through all the years [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Cup Day, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 10:34:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5494073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cup Days never get old even when hockey players do. </p>
<p>(In which Kent watches a loved one say goodbye to hockey.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So you gotta fire up, you gotta let go.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatfamoushappyending (betsytheoven)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betsytheoven/gifts).



> +I promised fluff, and here it is. ♥  
> +This is mostly populated by original characters, from my unfinished series "Bad Boy Boogie", which I hope to finish now that life has had the good grace to simmer down a bit.  
> +Title from Imagine Dragons.

Kent is in Montreal with the Stanley Cup and it’s not his cup day. It’s not Zimms’ cup day either. He’s having his day later in the summer, on his birthday, just like —

Well.

Kent had his day in July, on his birthday, too. 

Gabriel didn’t get to play the whole season. He was on long-term IR from November to March but he got back in April, against the Flames, and straight into a fight with Bollig and it’s hard to tell who enjoyed it more.

Kent remembers how his heart had pounded, on top of the hard shift he’d just played, hard enough that he might have passed out, afraid for Gabriel and his shoulder, but he saw his face on the jumbotron after the fight and saw something joyous, even as he skated to the box and Kent had to remind himself to breathe.

The back garden of Mrs Charbonneau’s house is huge and Kent’s not sure he’ll ever call her Berenice now. Bergy’s here, with Aurelie, and Bash and Beastly, and there are kids running all over the place, even as Mrs Charbonneau’s boyfriend good-naturedly warns them away from the grill.

And then there’s Gabriel, with a bottle of beer in one hand, gesticulating as he talks to Zimms and there was a time when the very idea of the two of them in the same space would have terrified Kent, these men who know him best. 

Zimms smiles more these days, as well he might. This is his third Stanley Cup, after all, and Kent’s fourth. They’re talking about a dynasty now and Kent wonders if it’s fair. He walks over to Zimms and Gabriel and slides his arm around Gabriel's waist and, just for a moment, hides his face against the side of Gabriel's neck. His hair is so long that it tickles Kent’s nose and when Kent tries to blow a curl off his face, he ends up kissing Gabriel's neck, which is also a good place to be. Gabriel's arm is around Kent’s waist and he hasn’t stopped talking to Zimms. 

“What do you think?” asks Gabriel. 

“Hmm?” asks Kent, lifting his head and touching his lips to the angle of Gabriel's jaw. He’s clean shaven and he’s laughing. 

“You’re ridiculous,” says Gabriel which Kent doesn’t agree with because he’s only had Gabriel back for a season and that’s a lot of blow jobs to catch up with, and a lot of making out, and semi-public groping. “I was just saying to Jack that maybe I should go to school or take distance classes or something.

“Ugh,” says Kent. “You’re such a bad influence, Zimms.”

“Or I could set up a coffee shop. Go into business with Eric.”

“You’re the worst influence, Zimms.”

“Hey, these are all Gabriel’s ideas,” says Zimms, mildly. His camera is hanging around his neck and he looks older, too, and maybe he’s aged a little worse than Kent but he looks happy now, and poised. He’s not casing the joint for ways out. His parents are in the kitchen with Bittle and Kent thinks they love Bittle more than they ever loved Kent and that’s not a bad thing anymore. Bittle’s right for Zimms; there are no jagged edges or rebleeding wounds and Kent and Zimms are friends now. They may even be best friends again. 

Gabriel untangles himself from Kent and Kent feels the corners of his mouth down-turning. 

“Don’t pout,” whispers Gabriel. “Max is here.”

Max is the only one of Gabriel’s half-brothers to come today. Gabriel has never been invited to one of Max’s cup days because their father and grandmother won’t even entertain the idea. Maybe they think Gabriel will overshadow Max, for all that Max is tall and wide.

Gabriel overshadows everyone, as far as Kent is concerned. He still smiles and the rookies adore him and probably prefer him to Kent; they spent the season clustering around him after every practice, imprinting on him like ducklings. 

Kent watches Gabriel talking to Max and is struck again by how forgiving Gabriel is. He’s better than Kent; the first time someone called Max _Charbo_ in training, right after Gabriel had been traded, Kent lost his shit and Jeff calmed him down because even though Jeff has the emotional intelligence of a roasted peanut, he can be strangely insightful. 

The video crew are following Gabriel around, like rookies, like ducklings. 

Kent knows this is Gabriel’s last cup day. He knows Gabriel’s going to announce his retirement before the season starts and he knows he’s going to go to school, or open a coffee shop, and he knows that Gabriel will be okay without hockey and maybe he’ll stop waking up in the middle of the night, needing to ice his shoulder because of the pain and Gabriel will be happy and Kent only wishes he was so strong.

He wishes he was the sort of man to say _I am happy if you are happy_ but he’s already thinking about how much he’ll miss Gabriel on the road, and how this means that he’s closer to retirement, too. 

Even Zimms would be okay if he had to retire tomorrow. He's looked into the abyss and the abyss looked back and, apparently, they reached some kind of compromise because Zimms is here now, and he's whole, and he's happy. 

Kent doesn’t know what he’d do but he suspects he’d be okay, despite himself. Gabriel’s reaching up, with his good hand, and ruffling Max’s curls and talking easily even though the camera is in his face. One of Bergy’s kids runs up to him and demands to be picked up and Gabriel doesn’t even falter as he hefts his nephew into his arms, even though Kent knows it has to be hell on his shoulder.

“Our kids won’t bake,” says Kent. 

“Pardon?” asks Zimms.

“Well, unless your man teaches them. But our kids won’t bake. Yours will.”

Zimms goes pink. 

“They’ll probably all play hockey a bit, though, till they decide what they want to do. They’ll speak French, too, _jesus_.”

Kent should rightly be terrified that he’s even spoken aloud; Zimms looks terrified, all the same, and is as subtle as a speeding train as he looks about for Bittle and rescue. He looks back at Kent, wide-eyed, like he thinks Kent would joke about this.

And, okay, Kent would joke about this, but not today. Not when Gabriel Charbonneau is saying goodbye to professional hockey.

It gets dark, and the wind picks up a bit, and everyone sits around, and it’s so painfully wholesome and domestic; it’s not what Kent thought the NHL would be, ten years ago, but it’s probably what he always needed it to be. 

Gabriel’s sitting a little bit apart from everyone and he’s watching them all, gathered around the firepit, and he’s got this small smile on his face and Kent’s heart aches fiercely. The Stanley Cup is standing on a plinth, catching the light of the fire just so and it looks as mythical as it ever has. 

Kent looks at it for a long time, knowing his name is on it three times over, and then he looks back at Gabriel and he walks over to him.

When Kent sits next to him, Gabriel leans against him.

"I won it for you," says Kent. There's a hint of thunder in the air.

"I like to think the rest of us contributed," says Gabriel, dry as anything. He takes the sting out of his words by laying his hand on Kent's cheek. "I know," he says.

At some point in the past decade of playing hockey, and five years of not playing on the same team as Gabriel, Kent stopped being selfish. The first cup was to prove himself and the second cup was to show the world that he and Zimms were unparalleled and the third cup was for fun. This cup, though. Well, Kent doesn't want to say it, looking into Gabriel's dark brown eyes.

"Marry me," he whispers, instead. 


End file.
